Kismet
by Akira Ichijouji
Summary: A different sort of battle for dominance rages in the desert of the Digital World; and on comes the storm. Yaoi, DaikenKensuke.


Warnings: I probably ought to tell you that this is yaoi – boy on boy action.  It contains sex, but not the explicit kind. (Can I write that? Nope. It makes me laugh. ^_~)

A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, I have broken through the Daiken writer's block. Huzzah. This is more of a descriptive piece than anything else; I've found I'm better at poetic writing than I am at thinking out plots and all. XD This fic was rather inspired by the song 'Desert Rose' by Sting; it's just such an awesome song. So, on you go. *shoos* Read. Behold my attempt at pathetic fallacy. (For those of you who are unfamiliar with lit terms, that has nothing to do with failure of certain male equipment. It's when the weather reflects emotions or actions in a story. ^_~)

Kismet

*~…*~. . .~*…~*

By Akira Ichijouji

Eyes were hooded, dark in the lamplight and the sunset outside the tent, dark behind purple lenses that flashed hypnotically with every shiver of the flames.

Ichijouji Ken stood slowly, rising from the bed on which he had been lying, cape pooling briefly on the surface of the sheets before being pulled whisperingly off the linens.

"Why this?" Motomiya Daisuke asked, in a quavering voice, from the tent flap.

"Why what?" Ken replied, hardly a question in his voice.  He slid the violet lenses off his face, fixing Daisuke with his treacherous iced-river stare.

"All of this.  Any of this."  Daisuke waved his hand at the tent, at the desert to his back.  The shimmering lamplight played skillfully over his auburn hair, all fire and frankincense.

Ken stepped closer, letting the tips of his fingers trail lingeringly over the back of the mahogany chair set slightly askew from its matching desk.  "I suppose it is what I had imagined for a desert campaign.  Who am I to question the inner workings of the Digital World?"

Daisuke stepped forward hesitantly, letting the tent flap swish back into place with what seemed to him a dreadful finality.  He was silent for a long moment, a hot breeze from the sands stirring the fabric surrounding them.  "You haven't asked why I'm here."

"I should think I would find it rather obvious."  The boy Kaizer turned away, bracing his hands on slim hips.

The redhead stepped forward once again.  "If you would only join us…"

The Kaizer held up an imperious hand, still turned away, hips cocked slightly to the side, chin raised, hair in static spikes.  "You've told me this before.  And I've told you once is enough."

Daisuke sighed, an almost imperceptible sound.

Dying sunlight crept under the flaps of the tent, seeping into the weave of the silky, indestructible canvas material only possible in the Digital World and in the imagination.  Both boys faced the west, aware exclusively of each other, coarse sand beneath and all around.

Daisuke felt himself shiver, inside and out.

A coldness was approaching, sweeping in over the desert sands, as the sun slid simplistically under the horizon, under the clouds, tilting perception and shadows.

The chill had nothing to do with the temperature.

The Child of Courage and Friendship slipped further within, feeling the heat from the now-absent sun seep into him from the crimson sands below.  He shivered again, and let his Digiworld jacket slip down from his shoulders to crumple on the pliant silk of the tent floor.

His eyes were fixed on Ken; on the poised balance of his slender legs, the subtle contour of his hips, the narrow, fetching curve of his waist, the self assurance of his posture, the graceful, arching silhouette of his throat…

Daisuke had always thought he'd known what it was like to want something.

First in his life it had been candy; then toys; then recognition for his soccer skills by Taichi-sempai; then Hikari-chan…

He had always thought he'd wanted her; she was beautiful, she was perfect, she was sweet and unassuming and possessed a quiet, natural intelligence bordering on empathy.  Even at the age of twelve, Daisuke had wanted to press his lips to that rose-hued skin, to taste that clean flavour and know he was worthy of more.

Daisuke now knew that was nothing.

Hikari was flawless and charming, what Daisuke had always thought every man would ever dream of.  But Ken…Ken…

Ken was challenge.  Ken was an adversary, a desirable, rapturous nemesis; he ignited a fire in Daisuke's veins that burned supreme in every inch of his body, in every wisp of thought, in every frantic beat of his heart.

And with that realisation came the knowledge that Hikari could never, ever be enough.

Daisuke raked his eyes over the tall form before him, silence filling the space between them, filling the corners, filling every crack, every flaw, every minute gap between each grain of sand.

"Why haven't you left yet?" the Kaizer said placidly, unemotionally, voice unnaturally loud in the stillness of the spinning, obsidian night.

Daisuke didn't answer.

Ken turned round, eyes deepened to lapis, lashes hiding them almost exclusively.  He raised one slender hand, fingertips stroking Daisuke's cheek in a shatteringly light, incandescent caress.  "Why do you waste your time with them?"

A dark, velvet shiver ran through Daisuke at his actions; Ken moved closer, letting his fingers brush tenderly through the feathering of hair at Daisuke's temple.

"I don't know what you mean."  Daisuke's voice, without his permission, quavered uncertainly.

"Of course you do."  The Kaizer moved away again, gracefully sprawling onto an armchair after unhooking the clasp of his cape and tossing it unheedingly aside.

Daisuke had thought he could want, thought he could need, but this, this…

Ken could slice him to the bone and lick away the blood, soothing the pain just as he caused it.  Daisuke found he could become dependent on this pain, this salvation.

"Daisuke, Daisuke," said Ken, breathlessly, tantalizingly, from his sprawl on the armchair.  "_They cannot see perfection even when it calls them by name.  You are infinitely more than they know, than they give you credit for."_

Daisuke forced his gaze away once more, distractedly studying the wooden toggles that held the sides of the tent together.  "I'm far from perfect."

The Child of Courage and Friendship snapped his attention back to the Kaizer as the other boy pushed himself off the chair, knuckles whitening on the brocaded arms.  "That's where you're wrong."

He walked round Daisuke, round and round, circling, evaluating, imagining, noting with pride that this tactic came nowhere nearer to flustering the redhead than it came to flustering himself.  "_They have no idea how breathtakingly exquisite you are.  __They refuse to see you properly.  __They do not…cherish…you, the way I do…"_

The Kaizer came to a halt in front of his adversary, studying the flame-licked brown of his eyes, the hidden gold of his skin.  Ken leaned close, his cheek close enough to Daisuke's for the heat to prickle his cheekbone.

"_They don't love you," Ken said, voice low and comforting and intense, breath whispering past Daisuke's ear.  "Oh Daisuke," he breathed, shadows making love to his ivory skin.  "You could be mine."_

Daisuke felt the first touch of the Kaizer's lips to his as a dreamer feels heady waves of water closing in over his head.  Ken's lips moved wistfully, not moving to taste, just to touch, hands stroking calmingly through hair, over clothing, over skin.  It was chaste and desiring, sensing quintessence in each deliberate pressure of his lips.

Daisuke's eyes fluttered closed; he was paralysed, trembling, heat flushing his skin.  Each yielding touch sent wildfire through his veins, pooling as scorching liquid at the base of his spine.

_Ken…Daisuke thought fragmentedly, as Ken's touch was suddenly withdrawn.  His eyes flew open, and Ken, two high points of colour on his cheekbones, was leaning heavily on the tent's support beam, chest heaving._

Daisuke took a step forward and Ken threw his head back, panting softly.  The Kaizer, with two deft hand movements, unclasped his gloves and cumbersome wrist guards, letting them drop to the floor with twin thuds, dull against the sand.

Daisuke's eyes were fever-bright.  "Or, Ken," he said, flushed, assertive, eyes suddenly drunk on the heat and the dry fury of the desert.  "_You could be __mine."_

And Daisuke was kissing him, impatiently, almost savagely, suddenly glove-less hands twisting desirably in the Kaizer's hair and pulling the other to him, closer, harder.

The wind was howling round the tent now, kicking up eddies of sand to spin and dissipate, clouds blackening in the already-blackened sky.

Thunder crashed as Daisuke shoved Ken back onto the bed, bending slowly, hands braced against the mattress, to close his lips soundly over those of the raven-haired boy.

"Mine," he said when he pulled away, lips moving over the silken, ivory column of Ken's throat, breath hot and loud in Ken's ear.

"Yes."  The Kaizer felt he couldn't get enough oxygen; the air around them was scorching and moist.  And Ken felt he couldn't care less.

Lightening shimmered sporadically against the heat of the sands, thunder vibrating through every inch of fabric, wood, glass, and flesh.

Plaintive gasps fought their way past Ken's lips as Daisuke moved above him, thrilling shocks stabbing deep in his belly at every touch, every writhe, every breath of the boy in his arms.

"Daisuke, Daisuke…" he muttered repeatedly, a near chant, hands twisting convulsively in the fabric of Daisuke's shirt.

The first touch of skin on skin was electric delight, hands and lips exploring feverishly, the dry air sparking, hearts racing in time to the thunder crashing outside.

Then the rains came, softly beating the parched expanse of the sand, pattering soothingly over the heads of the two boys.

Ken let out a sigh with all his reservations and preoccupations, and sank bonelessly back onto the pillows, pulling Daisuke to him, arms curling tightly around the thin waist.

His heart was slowing, and his eyes flickered closed, breath finally coming enough to still his panting gasps.

And there was silence, stillness, except for the rains pulsating over the desert.

"Join us."  Daisuke said under his breath, voice, soft as it was, reverberating in the space around them.  His hands could not stop moving, sliding over cooling skin and sweat-soaked hair.

Ken remained motionless, hair limp and spread over the pillow.  "I can't."

Daisuke rested his cheek against the flat plane of Ken's chest, hearing the heartbeat, feeling his head rise and fall rhythmically with the Kaizer's every breath.

"I know."

*~…*~. . .~*…~*

Owari


End file.
